


A Conjuction of Kink- Witcher Kinktober 2020

by BawdyBean



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Bears (the gay kind), Bottom Eskel (The Witcher), Creampie, Cumplay, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemas, Eskel's pierced nipples, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fingerfucking, Kinktober, M/M, Male Lactation, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outdoor Sex, Past Medical Trauma, Prostate Examinations, Public Sex, Size Difference, Soft Dom Eskel, Vaginal Sex, Wax Play, men in corsets, sub!geralt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean
Summary: It's KINKTOBER! This year I will be branching out into a plethora of pairings (mostly rare) to fill the prompts while still remaining within the witcherverse. Some days may feature a work related to an existing work of mine or someone else's, in those cases it will be noted in the A/N with a link to the work(s). Don't be afraid to check out the related content but the kink can be enjoyed without it as well! Prompts will be noted in the chapter title but please know they may not be the only kink in the work, A/N will contain any relevant content warnings. Tags will be added as the month progresses.Most of all-- ENJOY!UPDATE chapter 8 now has art by the wonderful Mothelia!!
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Mislav, Gaetan/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet, Gaunter O'Dimm/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hjalmar an Craite/Eskel, Lambert/Keira Metz
Comments: 115
Kudos: 146
Collections: Kinktober 2020, Witcher Rarepair Discord Collection





	1. Cracked by an' Craite - Bath Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Eskel saves Hjalmar and finds himself repaid in a very satisfactory way.  
> CW: burly hairy men fucking in a hot spring
> 
> Beta by my wonderful writing partner [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion)!

Steam filled the stone room under Kaer Trolde. It was more of a cavern really, one that had been carved and molded by the hands of men to suit their needs. The walls had been chipped straight, supported by sturdy resin cured beams here and there. And in the center of it all swirled a pool of clear water, pale gray steam clinging to the surface.

Eskel was still a bit unclear on how he’d ended up down here, with nothing but a bath sheet wrapped around his hips and Hjalmar an Craite’ quickly losing clothes in front of him. 

No. Actually Eskel was clear on how he’d _gotten_ here. He’d had come upon Hjalmar trying to best a cyclops singlehandedly and while the man hadn’t been doing poorly, it was mostly by virtue of not allowing the cyclops to get close. Turned out that despite his burly stature, Hjalmar was rather smooth on his feet. Cyclops, as a rule, were not.

What Eskel _wasn’t_ sure of was if this was a wise idea.

From the few moments of watching Hjalmar slide about on his feet and roll away on the hard packed earth, Eskel already knew that seeing Hjalmar naked was going to be a test of his will. Witchers weren’t well liked in most places though, making it difficult to turn down a hot bath, with the promise of a meal and bed afterward for free. Besides, Eskel had _earned_ it technically. 

Hjalmar pushed his leathers down past his knees, bending to loosen them from one ankle, and Eskel’s mouth went dry. Melitele’s sweet tits, the man had an _ass_. Cock giving a strong pulse behind the bath sheet, Eskel took a deep breath and forced his mind blank. Mentally willing away the sight of Hjalmar’s thick meaty ass covered in a dust of red hair Eskel turned slightly away. 

Moments later Hjalmar’s big hand slapped Eskel on the back. “I thought growing up in a den of Wolves you’d be used to seeing your comrades naked? What’re you waiting for?”

The water rippled around Hjalmar’s dense thighs as he waded in. Groaning internally Eskel hurried to shed his bath sheet before Hjalmar could turn around. At least once he was in the water he could better hide himself if he lost control.

“‘M jus’ not used to bein’ offered a bath in a castle. ‘M not Geralt.” The water was glorious though. The dirt and blood rinsed from Eskel’s hands when he wove them through it, floating away at the end of the pool into a thinning stream that ran beneath the cavern wall. Eskel could sense the current, bringing in fresh water, and it left him feeling _clean_.

Dipping his soap in the water Eskel waded deeper and settled at the side of the pool. He tipped his hair back and scrubbed it solidly. The current carried the suds away too.

Across the pool Hjalmar lounged, soaking submerged all the way to his neck, head resting on the edge of the pool, watching Eskel soap his chest and arms. Eskel stood turning away to wash his thighs, skirting his cock and balls. If he touched them now with the image of Hjalmar’s bare ass in mind, even for something as perfunctory as a clean up, Eskel was sure he would swell up.

There was a hammered metal tray near the edge of the pool with pine tar soap, oils, and perfumes in assorted bottles on it. Eskel sank back into the water and sloshed over to it, setting his soap there to dry. When he turned back around Hjalmar was still watching him intently.

“What about your back?” Moss green eyes betrayed no intent and Hjalmar’s mouth was hidden by the curtain of warm red that was his wet beard. It matched the shaggy mop of hair hanging around his shoulders the steam had left damp and clinging to Hjalmar’s head.

“Wha’? Ah, nah. ‘S alright.”

“Ach!” Water sloshed up Eskel’s chest when Hjalmar rose up with surprising speed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t mind at all. Ya saved my cocksure skin out there, it’s the least I can do.”

In a moment of glaring clarity Eskel realized that Hjalmar was coming at him and there was nothing he could do to dissuade the man. He turned to face the edge of the pool, baring his back and set his crossed arms on the ledge. Cock faced forward, Hjalmar wouldn’t see the reaction his hands were sure to bring. 

“Alright.” Eskel pressed his forehead into his arms and bit his lip as Hjalmar pressed soap hard into the muscles of his back.

Eskel breathed heavy and steady. Hjalmar’s thumbs were like iron and it wasn’t Eskel’s fault when a weak moan slipped out as a particularly gnarled knot gave way. Crouched on the bench carved into the pool’s side Eskel’s cock thrummed and thickened on his thighs. The hot water lapped right at the base of his spine and Eskel was thankful Hjalmar wasn’t aware of his predicament.

“Like I said, this is the least I can do for ya.” Hjalmar’s hand slid down the sides of Eskel’s back strong and solid, rolling the tight muscles under them. “Ya want something more ya let me know.” Hjalmar hit a sore spot in Eskel’s lower back and Eskel’s head twitched. 

“Fuck!”

A throaty laugh rolled out behind Eskel, filling the cavern. “We could.”

For a moment Eskel didn’t breath.

But Hjalmar’s hands sat idly above his hips, and Eskel wanted nothing more than to push back into them. Eskel licked his lips and let out a breathy word of question. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” Suddenly Eskel found his back blanketed in warm skin. Big arms found their way around Eskel’s waist and a large hand squeezed his aching cock.

“Oh. Fuck yeah, please.” Forget hunkering in the pool until Hjalmar got bored, or his cock finally wilted. If Hjalmar was willing to plough him through the bitter brink of bliss, Eskel was more than interested. And judging by the stiff cock pressing against his own oh so exposed ass, Eskel was completely sure Hjalmar was interested too.

“Turn around. Let me see that nice cock ya been hiding since we got in here.” The wet rug of warmth that was at Eskel’s back disappeared and he rose up. Hjalmar’s hand connected with Eskel’s ass cheek as soon as it cleared the water line. The sound echoed louder in the cavern than the small sting warranted.

Eskel barely got the chance to face Hjalmar before he found himself with his ass on the ledge. Hjalmar crowded up between Eskel’s legs and laid him out onto the surrounding stone floor, bending over to catch his mouth. 

“Please tell me you’ve got some oil.” Eskel was breathless in a way that had nothing to do with activity and everything to do with a desire to have Hjalmar’s cock inside of him. Now.

The tray to his right clattered as soaps and oils were knocked over. Hjalmar’s mouth sucked hard at Eskel’s neck and his eyes fell shut. Finally free to do as he wished, Eskel stroked his hands down the sides of Hjalmar’s broad back, curly wet hairs gritting perfectly under his fingers. Sinking his fingers into the meat of Hjalmar’s ass Eskel used his strength to pull Hjalmar close to himself hard. It knocked a very satisfying grunt out of Hjalmar.

Giving Hjalmar’s ass a rough squeeze to hear it again, Eskel was rewarded instead with Hjalmar’s mouth latching hard onto his nipple. Sucking a lungful of air, Eskel’s fingers dug into Hjalmar’s ass so hard he was sure it would bruise. 

“Fuck. Please now. I need you insi-” Eskel’s words stretched into an eager keen at the insistent press of Hjalmar’s strong finger. He panted through it, while his mind scrabbled for purchase. One of Hjalmar’s massive fingers was easily the size of two of another man’s. Eskel’s rim ached at the intrusion, but with every beat of his heart it pulsed gently around the thickness, loosening. “Move, please.”

Hjalmar wasted no time following Eskel’s order. Something deep inside Eskel was let go by having this behemoth of a man cater to his whim. Fuck him like he meant it, the way Eskel needed it. Like it mattered. Like he was _worth_ it.

Spreading his legs wide in the air around Hjalmar, Eskel opened himself up to it. Let every moan and grunt and sigh loose. And it felt _good_.

The head of Hjalmar’s cock tested Eskel’s rim again. A slick aching build of pressure that refused to relent. But Hjalmar didn’t rush, licking and biting at Eskel’s neck and nipples and lips while he ground himself in small circles. It drove Eskel mad with need until he was panting. 

With every deep desperate breath Eskel gulped down, Hjalmar’s hips bore forward until the tension broke and Eskel groaned at the fullness of it all. Retreating and then rolling forward again, Hjalmar’s body laid claim to Eskel’s, breaking him back open bit by bit. At the moment Eskel didn’t want to think about how long it had been, but it had been _too long_. 

The Path was lonely. And Hjalmar, fuck, Hjalmar was right where Eskel needed him. Sinking deep inside and filling him up with a heat behind his balls. Eskel wanted to let that heat flood him. Inundate him like the hot water of the springs had. The way Hjalmar’s heavy body was laying over his, trapping Eskel’s swollen cock between them was sweeping him away. The border of his ecstasy stretched out before Eskel, just within reach and he grabbed.

Hjalmar’s stomach was as hard as his cock and Eskel hooked his heels into Hjalmar’s ass to roll his hips up, thrusting the head of his cock through the tangle of wet fur there. It slid roughly between them, tender head teased by Eskel’s hair below and Hjalmar’s above. Eskel’s fingers squeezed hard into Hjalmar’s side, rutting recklessly toward his release.

It was so good, too much, too amazing. The heat blazed up Eskel’s cock and flooded between their bodies. The mess of Eskel’s come only added to the wetness slicking the way for his cock. Oversensitive, Eskel was left gasping and choking on the edge of painful pleasure while Hjalmar pounded into him. Water splashed over the sides of the pool, flooding the stone floor. 

Head lolling to the side, Eskel took in the mess. A deep throb and warmth in Eskel’s ass made him hold Hjalmar tight to his chest while Hjalmar drew long shuddering breaths. Eskel wondered if Hjalmar often left such a mess in the hot springs under Kaer Trolde. Then Eskel wondered if this was how Geralt’s baths at castles usually went.

The sudden chuckle that burst from Eskel made Hjalmar rise up in his arms. “What’s so funny?”

“Jus’ wonderin’ if this is how Geralt’s royal baths go.” Eskel couldn’t wipe the fuck drunk grin off his face.

Hjalmar scooped Eskel up and they splashed back in the pool. ”Wouldn’t know. He’s a bit too skinny for my liking.”


	2. Knot What You Thought-- Knotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert enjoys drinking in Yantra because the locals don't bother trying to talk to him or cheat him on booze. He chats up a local woman one night and follows her back to her place only to learn a thing or two he didn't know.

Yantra didn’t exactly have a tavern. It definitely didn’t have an inn. But it did have peasants who were talkative enough, and liked their booze enough, that Lambert had discovered a house on the corner of the little shithole where they tended to congregate to get pissfaced. There were benefits to this type of drinking. The trade of booze for coin tended to leave his purse heavier than when he went into an actual tavern because moonshine skunked him quicker than cheap watered down ale.

Also, the four or five locals propped at the hodge podge of chairs and tables rolling dice and playing gwent didn’t seem to give a fuck that Lambert had two swords.

Yantra didn’t have a people. Not in the way Novigrad did.

No one called him puss peepers here.

They left Lambert alone and let him drink away his mood as long as he gave them solid coins in trade. In a rare moment of weakness Lambert _appreciated_ it. Yantra was a good place to stop, and while he didn’t go there purposely, if he was nearby Lambert would stop for a few, before then wobbling to a field to pass out on his bedroll content.

This time was no different. The corner house was dank, smelling of smoke from the fire and wet hay from the fields. The rains had let up hours ago but several of the field hands dropped their scythes in favor of a bottle.

Lambert found Lestek out back and traded a few crowns for a bottle himself. Wandering back in the rear door Lambert eyed for a seat. The swinging of the wooden door in front and back as he’d come and gone looking for booze had freshened the air a bit. The dank grass smell dissipating and leaving behind only the warm wood smell of the fire drying out the house.

The weather made the place crowded, but Lambert didn’t mind. He spotted an open chair at a table with no games, only a lone woman sipping hot spicy tea if his nose didn’t lie to him.

“Mind?” Tipping his head to his shoulder Lambert indicated the chair squared to her and facing the room.

“I don’t know. Do you?” The woman’s smile was full of vinegar but her eyes glittered soft green above a smattering of freckles. Her hair was hidden under a bonnet and she was wrapped in a fur. She looked warm and Lambert was jealous. He was also startled by her blunt retort.

“I don’t know should I?” Lambert couldn’t contain his bitter sarcasm, this was Yantra, people didn’t treat him like this here.

“Probably not. But I’ve seen you in here a few times and I’ve never seen you so much as sit within spitting distance of another person.” Her lip curled up in victory and Lambert’s gut went tight. _Oh, so she was a saucy one_.

He set his bottle down with a clunk and slid around the corner of the table plopping into the chair immediately stretching out to get comfortable. Hands linked behind his head, Lambert crossed his ankles to the side of the table and leaned in closer to talk, eyes on the fire. “Yeah, well, I don’t like boring pricks. You don’t seem like one though. So my name’s Lambert, what’s your’s?”

The young woman lifted the edges of the fur around herself and pulled it tighter. It had an auburn gleam in the firelight and damn did it look warm. “People round here call me Little Red.” Red took a sip of her tea. “But I ‘spose since you’ve decided I’m not a dull prick you can call me Lilly.”

* * *

Lilly, Lambert found was a fine conversationalist. Full of as much piss and vinegar as her initial flat lipped smile had promised. She told jokes that would spin Eskel’s sweet head and Lambert did not miss the forearm length dagger strapped to her thigh.

Lambert found himself loosening up his tongue in a way he hadn’t ever before. Telling tales of his shittiest contracts; the ones where he’d ended up flat on his ass in a slick of drowner guts with no tub in sight. Shamelessly he poked fun at the great and masterful White Wolf while Lilly sang loudly along, mocking the lyrics:  
You flee my scream, tis a warning,  
My legs spread apart, come and eat!

Never did he feel that she would truly judge his brethren, let alone him. For some reason Lilly seemed to just _understand_ —they were a pack of sorts. The few and rare left. It was bitter and horrible and made bearable only by the fact that they were so close Lambert could safely poke fun and know they’d still keep him around.

* * *

When darkness crept over the hayfields and the house started to piss it’s participants out onto the country lane Lambert was surprised to find his bottle still full. He’d enjoyed himself enough with Lilly that he’d barely touched it.

“Come on Wolfie. It’s getting late and I’ve had enough of this town’s boring pricks.” Lilly grabbed his hand and Lambert relished the challenge her predatory grin tossed his way.

“Mine’s not boring.” Lambert snorted, barely saving his bottle from the table before he was tugged toward the door.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Oh Melitele’s sweet cunt. _Lambert was going to rail her till the bed broke_.

* * *

Lilly’s hair was the same auburn as the fur she’d kept herself tucked into, shaggy cut and brushing her shoulders. But she wasn’t tucked into it anymore. Lambert had her on the bed with the fur under her belly and was _writhing_ on it. Lilly’s hands gripped around the iron bars of her bed frame so tightly her knuckles had gone white and her cunt gripped Lambert’s fingers with nearly the same will.

Lambert had laid over her halfway to hold her down because his instincts were right, she was fucking wild. Ravenous. Fucking his fingers into her made Lilly howl with pleasure and Lambert hissed out his own when she bit his arm where it draped in front of her face on the bed to silence herself. He shoved his face into her neck and inhaled deeply.

Then Lambert bit back in retaliation. Lilly keened under him, shuddering through an orgasm that soaked Lambert’s hand.

As Lilly’s frenzied breaths began to slow Lambert kissed and nuzzled the soon to be sore spot. “Fuck. You’re a beast. And I like it.”

The cackle low in Lilly’s chest shook Lambert’s lightly. “You have no idea, Wolfie.”

Gods. Lambert couldn’t fuck up with this woman. His mind had slipped out his mouth there and she hadn’t even blinked. “I’ve got all night to learn.”

Lilly turned underneath Lambert and he pushed himself up to allow it. The fire crackled and popped, shining warm honey on her skin and Lambert was glad for it. It was toasty in Lilly’s shack. The fire chased away the chill and until the place smelled of nothing but the dry cedar boards.

Sliding her leg between their bodies Lilly wrapped herself around Lambert’s hips and rolled her back. Lambert’s cock came alive as it slipped against the slick lips of her cunt. _Fuck_. The sight of Lilly on the brink of madness underneath him had been intoxicating and Lambert had forgotten how hard he was, focused on nothing but her satisfaction. It was all washing back over him now though, with throbbing clarity.

Lilly rolled her back again, an undulating motion that thrust her tits in the air then as they fell, drew her cunt up Lambert’s shaft and back down again. “Come on. I want you to fuck me.” Hands in her tits, Lilly pinched and teased her own nipples while she rubbed her cunt along Lambert’s trapped cock. “Now!” She demanded.

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” Lambert’s medallion rocked on it’s chain as he pushed back with his arms working hard to create space. Lilly was strong but Lambert was stronger, and he managed enough room that his cock notched wetly against her cunt.

“Oh fuck,” Lambert heaved out when he relaxed his arms and the pull of Lilly’s legs punched him into her.

“Oh. Yes!” Lilly giggled with a loose groan. “That’s good.”

She sounded drunk and Lambert glanced at her eyes, wide blown rings of grass around inky black ponds. It was awe-inspiring, to see such a fine woman so taken and know that he was the one taking her there. Lambert collapsed down onto Lilly and pulled his knees up, circling her in his arms. Fucking into her in hard, long strokes that moved them up the bed Lambert grasped her shoulders to hold her down onto himself.

It was everything Lambert wanted. He was warm. He was welcome. And his balls were pulling up tight in anticipation.

Lilly wasn’t afraid of him. On the contrary she seemed to almost think he should fear her, or at the very best that they were equals. Her fingernails scraped a blunt path up Lambert’s back and her cunt spasmed around him. It was everything Lambert could do to hold on and fuck her through another body shaking release.

The hot drip of arousal was gathering at the base of Lambert’s cock and the tighter Lilly’s body squeezed him the harder it got to hold himself back. Grunting and panting into her neck Lambert lost the battle, cock pulsing slowly as he started to come.

“Oh fuck. Oh. Fuck.” Rutting jerkily into Lilly, Lambert couldn’t find purchase. She was so fucking tight and his orgasm was going on forever. “Oh. My. Fucking Gods…woman. Let up!”

Lilly was cackling madly. “ME?” She rose up on her elbow and grabbed Lambert’s chin lightning fast, yanking his face towards hers. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d stuff a knot in me?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I-” Lambert tried to struggle back, shaken by the sudden turn of moods, but found he _couldn’t_.

Moving to any degree almost dropped him to his knees with pleasure and he felt like he was on the brink of orgasming again. Lilly’ cunt still squeezed so tightly around his cock he was trapped and confusion flooded him. This was physically not fucking possible. Lambert had fucked his fair share of women, and enough men, to know that bodies didn’t work like this.

Lilly dropped back to the bed with a breathless laugh, drawling out drunkenly, “Oh Wolfie. You didn’t _know_.” With a genuine smile Lilly held her arms open wide to Lambert. “Come here.” This woman was insane. She fucked him, grabbed him hard enough to bruise, and now she wanted to hug him? Lambert eyed her with suspicion.

“Let me guess. They used a few werewolf mutagens when they made you a witcher?” Lilly kept her arms open.

Lambert was still propped up on his arms trying to hold himself away, while doing everything he could not to move his cock. It throbbed with a dull but sneakily satisfying pleasure inside of her. “I don’t know what the fuck they used and I don’t want to.”

“Unless you also happen to be a werewolf like me—in which case you would not be confused as to the nice thick knot you just filled me up with—I think they did.” Lilly traced a hand down the side of Lambert’s back and he tried not to shiver. “Come here. It feels good. I want to hold you, be held by you. Show you everything that pretty cock of yours can do.”

Lambert laughed out loud. “My cock’s not pretty.” But he slumped forward into Lilly’s arms anyway, the movement making his shiver with pleasure even in the heat. “Fuck. It does feel good.”

“I guess you weren’t lying when you said you weren’t a boring prick.” Lilly kissed Lambert’s ear.

* * *

Lambert was almost out of moonshine and Geralt was kicking his ass at Gwent. Eskel was humming thoughtfully over his ale and his bestiary.

“Bet I know somethin’ you don’ have in that shitty lil’ book o’ beasts,” Lambert drawled out drunkenly.

“‘M sure you do.” Eskel didn’t bother looking up and it pissed Lambert off that Eskel didn’t believe him.

“Y’know werewolves’ll break yer dick?”

Geralt choked on his wine. Eskel lowered his quill very slowly and made sweet satisfying eye contact with Lambert. _Gotcha you reasonable bastard_ , Lambert thought.

“I think ‘s the pher- phero- pheromones.” Fuck. Maybe he’d had too much after all. “Get a good whiff an’ yer cock’ll swell up like a real wolf.” Lambert laughed raucously as Eskel and Geralt exchanged glances. Cocky assholes probably thought he was making shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- accidental knotting, bisexual lambert


	3. A Tight White Bud-- Creampie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Eskel travels through White Orchard he seeks out Mislav where he is-- on the hunt or at home. Outcast from the village Mislav spends all of his time alone but when the witcher comes through he opens himself up in more ways than one.

Eskel grunted and pulled Mislav’s hips hard back against his own. It knocked the air out of Mislav and one of his hands slid down the wall of the shack. “Oh fuck, witcher, you’ll split me with that cock of yours.” The corner of Eskel’s mouth curved up at the sight of Mislav’s hand sneaking underneath himself, arm moving in a jerky rhythm and he stroked himself.

“You like it, Mis,” Eskel purred in his ear, running his nose into Mislav’s hair and inhaling deeply.

Pulling nearly all the way out Eskel drove home again. Melitele, Mislav’s ass was always a treat. The man was quiet, reserved, and kept to himself. Eskel would bet there weren’t many men who were allowed where he was now. Behind Mislav’s modest home with their cock sunk in his ass over the the woodpile.

That thought grabbed Eskel’s lust almost as tight as Mislav’s ass squeezed his cock. The punched out gasps of Mislav’s breath were music to Eskel’s thundering ears as he rutted into Mislav’s slowly loosening heat.

Eskel’s hand reached around to join Mislav’s, teasing the dribbling tip of Mislav’s cock with his fingers. “Mmm, tha’s it.” Eskel’s balls ached and his ass tightened with every sharp thrust. “So good for me. Let me all the way in.”

There was a low whine and Mislav’s thighs shook while Eskel fucked him up to the edge of pleasure and held him there. The smell of Mislav’s neck was irresistible—pine, wood ash, and rain. Eskel kissed it, gentle nipping bites, nuzzling into the skin as far as he could while he stroked Mislav’s cock in time with his own deliberate pace. “Wanna get so deep inside you.” 

Mislav let out a broken cry, spasming around Eskel’s cock and spilling in his hand. “Fuck, fill me up, witcher.” The words were needy and _desperate_. Falling out in a quiet begging plea that pulled Eskel over the edge.

“Always.” Eskel thrust hard and deep a few more times. “Every time.” Breathless, Eskel stilled. “-never leave you empty.” His cock pulsed slowly, filling Mislav’s ass, and his head rested on the back of Mislav’s neck.

For several long moments they rested, out of air against the wall leaning over the woodpile. Eskel went soft and his cock slipped free. Pushing off the wall a spike of heat stabbed through Eskel all over again at the sight of his cum dripping from Mislav’s stretched hole.

Dusky pink and tender looking. Smeared with Eskel’s mark. Reaching out Eskel gathered his own cum on his fingers, and pushed it back into Mislav’s slack body, making Mislav keen weakly. 

Mislav’s once tight bud was stretched loose and painted white, no innocence left there. The thought made Eskel want to growl possessively and claim it for himself again. “We should try’n make it to the bed this time.” Eskel sounded drunk even to himself. Voice gone to gravel with desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW-- outdoor sex, creampie, anal sex, fingering, slight cumplay


	4. A Satisfying Size- Fisting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaetan and Letho are living in Metinna serving as part of the personal guard to the twins. Gaetan wants to show Letho that while this lavish thing might someday leave them, he won't be leaving Letho. That home is wherever you are as long as you have the right people with you. Letho having grown used to dead pigeons on his doorstep as a sign of love, is confident in his ability to take whatever kind of love his moggie is willing to give him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is directly inspired by [rawrkinjd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrkinjd/pseuds/rawrkinjd) and [round_robin's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin) story [Cabinet of Curiosities](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553989/chapters/62008177) which I highly recommend if you are looking for some wolfpack with plot and large helpings of other pairs in the wings!

The pigeons were nice. Letho’s lips twitched and he hummed to himself, sparkling canary yellow eyes giving away his emotion at the gifts. No one else would have seen it, as solid as Letho held himself, but it was there. Gaetan saw it.

Metinna was comfortable. Lavish in a way that was hard to trust after centuries of change. They’d all had comfort before, home whether in a kaer or a caravan, only to have it burned and butchered around them. The found it once more in a strange way with Jaskier only to have it slip through their fingers yet again. Centuries came and went, and physical comforts with them. Gaetan understood that.

Gaetan didn’t look to the future and how it might change. Instead he sought comfort in what he was certain of. The twitch of Letho’s lips and the promise of refuge swimming deep in those eyes. Gaetan wanted more of that. More than that, Gaetan wanted to _share_ that immovable sense of home with Letho. And pigeons just weren’t enough to satisfy his Viper.

Letho is polishing his daggers in front of the window, one eye on the city below. He’s not on duty, but it doesn’t matter, he’s still watching when Gaetan appears beside him. His moggy slips over one of Letho’s broad thighs, straddling it effortlessly and Letho sighs. Daggers notching home in their sheaths, Letho crosses his arms behind his head and stretches out in the chair. Letho leans back and admires Gaetan. Fuck. He’s lucky and it scares him sometimes.

“Somethin’ on your mind, moggy?” Gaetan’s hands press into the top of Letho’s thigh and the proximity to his cock is not lost on him.

Gaetan’s head cocks to the side. “Would you let me satisfy you?” 

Letho’s face splits into a grin and he opens his legs wider. “In a mood are you?”

“Is that a yes?” Gaetan straightens his head and his hand slides right up over Letho’s cock without hesitation.

Arousal burns deep in Letho’s gut and he resists the urge to close his eyes, instead holding the intense gaze that Gaetan is pinning him with even as he pets Letho’s cock from base to head through his leathers. Gaetan’s eyes search Letho’s in that too earnest way that makes Letho hot. And nervous.

“You haven’t said what I’d be agreein’ to yet,” Letho hedges. His cock is filling out, thick and eager under Gaetan’s pawing hand. Letho has the feeling he’s already agreeing and just hasn’t realized it yet.

“Hmm.” Gaetan hums to himself and his hand begins to _knead_. “I want to be inside of you. Fill you up enough to satisfy a man your size.”

A laugh bursts out of Letho unbidden and rough. “Size’s got shit to do with it.”

“Then let me.” Gaetan’s smile is _wicked_ and Letho is too pleased to have his moggy around to care. The one person who sees Letho for who he is and has no fear.

“How you want me?” 

Letho ends up on his back on the bed, hands hooked behind his knees and legs spread wide. Fuck. Size might not mean shit but even Letho is seeing the attraction of his little moggy framed between his huge thighs, grinning impishly up at him.

Cock thumping slowly on his hard belly, Letho sucks in a breath at the combination of the sight and the swirling tease of Gaetan’s next finger. Slick with oil it circles his tight pucker and with a firm press the tip spreads him open further, joining the one already there. When Letho lets the air in his lungs come Gaetan sinks his fingers forward and the stretch is unexpected.

An oily hand pets Letho’s cock and he breathes through it. The slight twinge burns away into a pleasant hum as Letho’s rim adjusts and he nods his head. Gaetan moves and Letho’s world moves with him just a little bit, energy balling up in the base of Letho’s cock completely at Gaetan’s whim. Letho clamps his jaw shut against the noises that try to claw their way out of his throat.

When he’s sure he has control of his vocal cords again Letho manages to mutter a single word, “-fuck.”

“It’s alright scales.” The scratch of Gaetan’s evening stubble on the inside of Letho’s thigh provides a welcome distraction. “I want you to feel like this.”

Letho would huff at that, except that with Gaetan’s fingers sunk in his ass he might embarrass himself right now. And as strange as it feels to be so _open_ , rationally, Letho knows he’s safe with Gaetan. So if his moggy wants this, Letho will fucking well give it to him. 

Gaetan’s palm strokes up Letho’s cock while the fingers of his other hand crook up inside Letho’s ass drawing outward all in one motion and Letho’s vision is suddenly bright white fading to gray at the edges.

“Oh.” Gaetan does it again. “Oh shit.” Letho is left panting. His gut clenches hard and his cock dribbles on his stomach. Gaetan doesn’t stop and Letho’s fingers dig into the backs of his thighs. 

There is a hard pressure at his hole and Letho pushes back into it naturally. Gaetan rewards him with a warm lick all the way from the back of Letho’s sac to the base of his cock. “That was three.”

Letho moans. His heart beats in his rim around Gaetan’s fingers. And then Gaetan spreads them.

Letho thinks he might come. “Stop!”

Instantly, Gaetan goes still. “Scales?”

“Can’t.” Fuck. Letho doesn’t even have the words. It doesn’t _hurt_. Actually, it’s really good. His heart beats too fast. And he realizes Gaetan can hear it, too.

Soft lips kiss Letho’s sac. He heaves in a breath and shudders it out. The terrifying threat of his orgasm that was looming ebbs away. Letho’s chest loosens just a little bit.

“I think you can.” Gaetan’s voice is quiet but more confident than Letho can ever remember.

“Could take your cock right now, if you’d hurry up an’ give it to me,” Letho counters. “How many fingers you plannin’ on givin’ me?”

“All of them.” The words ghost across Letho’s sac with Gaetan’s hot breath.

Letho’s heart sputters in his chest. “You crazy little shit.” 

“ _Your_ crazy little shit,” Gaetan grins wickedly over Letho’s dripping cock at him, thumb tracing his sensitive rim. “You can take them.” With the next kiss to Letho’s sac Gaetan sucks lightly at the skin there. “I’ll stop if you can’t.”

And Letho _knows_ Gaetan will.

Groaning in defeat, Letho’s head falls back on the bed. Gaetan’s tongue swirls around Letho’s ball sucking it into his mouth. “Fuck. Move then, moggy.” The emptiness left behind when Gaetan’s fingers retreat leaves Letho aching. They surge back into him, twisting minutely. Letho’s ball pops free from the heat of Gartan’s mouth and he moans too loud at the sudden rush of cold air and the way it makes his rim clench.

Gaetan’s fingers tease over the sticky head of Letho’s cock, dragging precum down his length and rubbing it in when his palm strokes back up. It holds Letho’s attention, taking all his power not to spill on his own stomach. The sweep of Gaetan’s fingertips over that spot inside Letho builds a buzz behind his cock again. 

This time when Gaetan spreads his fingers open Letho cries out. “Oh fuck!” Gaetan holds him open—spitted on his fingers for a breathless moment—before he closes them. Sawing them in and out Gaetan does it again. Letho doesn’t even notice when Geatan’s pinky finger slips in beside the others. His eyes are closed and his mouth gapes open; caught on the cliff of pleasure Letho hangs by one hand.

The twisting, turning, pushing, pulling, _insistent press_ of four fingers is more than Letho has ever taken before. Gaetan is a small man, but he’s working up a rhythm that has Letho shaking. His legs are frozen in the air with bent knees. Gaetan forces the air out of Letho’s lungs in loud grunts and he can’t uncurl himself if he tries.

A long moan reverberates out of Letho’s chest when Gaetan runs his thumb along his stretched too-tight rim. “Ohh, oh.” Letho’s not begging. But the word is right there. _Please_.

Gaetan presses a kiss to Letho’s sac again. “One more.” His hand retreats and Letho groans wildly at the loss. When it returns Letho presses out against it eagerly, desperate to have Gaetan back. It stretches and burns and aches. Between one breath and the next heaving one it’s gone, in one slick slide.

“OH! Shit.” Letho is too full. “Fuck, moggy.” He can feel Gaetan’s heartbeat in his ass. Or is it his own. Letho’s head swims and his cock jumps. “Ohhh.” Gods is that his own fucking voice? 

Gaetan’s stubble is rubbing along the inside of Letho’s thigh and it brings him back to himself. His lungs are on fire and Letho gulps air. The room swims into view and he looks down at Gaetan between the frame of his own legs.

“There you go, scales.” Gaetan smiles fondly and rocks his hand inside of Letho.

The motion makes Letho gasp as Gaetan’s hand moves past that place inside that makes pleasure pool behind his balls. Letho doesn’t know what to do. He can’t stop the noises falling from his mouth. Can’t pull his jaw shut. 

“Please. Gaetan.” Letho tries to stall the orgasm that is rushing headlong at him but the words only urge Gaetan on. The sight of Gaetan’s enthralled face spikes pleasure hot into Letho’s gut. His ass is spasms around Gaetan’s wrist and Letho roars. Cock jerking under Gaaetan’s fingers and painting his stomach in stripes of thick white cum.

Afterwards Letho is lost. He curls up on his side and tries his best to act like nothing's wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that Gaetan _knows_. He’s not sore. Gaetan didn’t hurt him. And Letho had made a point of telling Gaetan that but his moggy had ignored him—bringing Letho a blanket and crawling on top of him.

The weight is nice Letho will admit. It’s a textbook Cat trick sure. Fucking heavy blanket to calm him down. Letho doesn’t need it. He _doesn’t_.

If Letho’s eyes are wet it’s because—fuck.

“S’alright you know?”

“What?” Letho tries hard to keep his voice dry.

“That feeling. In your chest.” Gaetan’s chin rubs aimlessly on Letho’s shoulder through the blanket. Scenting him.

Letho laughs and it comes out wet. “That feeling in my chest was your _fist_.” Except Geatan’s not inside him any more. Not physically. He’s going to be inside Letho forever though and that thought shakes Letho to the core.

The blanket is unceremoniously dropped over Letho’s head. “Sleep, scales. I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: fisting, powerplay, subdrop/emotional drop, role reversal, size difference


	5. Snap Descision, Easy Trade- Public Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has made what he feels is a fair trade, but Gaunter O'Dimm is always pushing the boundaries of their deal. Seeing what more he can eek out of Geralt before their time is up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is strong dubcon, Geralt certainly feels he has made the choice and is alright with it, but there are clear indicators of manipulation and Geralt's discomfort with the situation.

The world around Geralt spun to a stop. Dandelion's lute suspended from his hand by its neck, his strumming arm halted mid-motion. The sudden silence in The Chameleon was a deafening roar of nothingness in Geralt’s ears.

The hair in Geralt's ponytail suddenly felt too tight on his head. Slowly he turned around looking into the crowd, eyes searching for that familiar dingy goldenrod tunic. It took a moment to spot him, as still as he held himself among all the statues of living people. And Geralt wondered if he'd been there all along, or merely decided to drop by a moment ago on a whim.

"Ger-alt." O'Dimm sat with his ankle on his knee, casually draped in a chair, elbow resting on the table next to him. Between his finger and the table he balanced a wooden spoon. 

"Gaunter." The name ground like sand in Geralt’s teeth.

O'Dimm's cheek tightened, pulling his mouth into a one-sided smile. "I'm so glad we're on a first name basis now." Rolling up out of his chair, O'Dimm deftly caught the spoon and approached Geralt.

"I'm not." Turning around Geralt let his eyes fall back on the stage and Dandelion there.

"Hm. Now that's not entirely the truth is it, Geralt? You see because you _are_ glad you know me. _Glad_ that I saved Julian Pankratz there, from that grievous injury—what was it, six months ago?” The soft voice crept along Geralt’s spine. He didn’t need to turn to know that O’Dimm was right behind him now.

Geralt wouldn’t deny it. He wasn’t glad he knew O’Dimm, but he was glad Dandelion was safe. What would his friend have been without his music? The injury to Dandelion’s arm had been disabling at best, and potentially deadly at worst.

"Yeah. And you get compensated for that.” Geralt had seen to that. Agreed to Dandelion’s well-being. It was an easy trade.

“I do.” The wooden spoon traced up Geralt’s neck, teasing his ponytail. Geralt clenched his jaw and fought not to turn and break the spoon. “I’m in the mood for some compensation now in fact.”

“Then cut the crap already." Geralt lifted his hands around himself indicating to the entire cabaret floor and all its occupants. “Let the people get back to the fun and we’ll go upstairs so you can have yours.”

“Oh, but it would be so much better for me if you had a reminder of _why_ you do this.” Geralt’s hips were grabbed harshly and yanked back, a hand in the middle of his back sending his shoulders forward. “Hands on the table, Geralt.”

Geralt stared straight ahead in disbelief for half a moment before instinct took over. One after the other he set his palms flat on the table and spread his legs. Shoulders set and head low he bit back the growl in his chest and stared at the floor. “Get on with it then.”

“In a hurry?” Geralt could hear the smile in O’Dimm’s words. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Ignoring the taunt entirely Geralt instead asked a favor. “Use some oil? I’ve got some in my pouch.”

“Oh, I like that.” O’Dimm finished opening Geralt’s laces, pushing his leathers and braies down as far as they would go around Geralt’s spread thighs. “You were thinking of me. I do like it when you’re slick.” He dug in the pouch on Geralt’s sword belt until he came away with a vial of oil.

Geralt grunted at the push of two oily cold fingers invading his hole. It made him shiver and the sudden stretch ached but with a few deep breathes he relaxed into it. Closing his eyes he stared at spots behind them, trying to find a place to wait.

A sharp pull on Geralt’s hair yanked his head back. Geralt’s eyes popped wide open and O’Dimm hissed in his ear. “Look at him. Does he _know_?”

The hand on his hair released him and Geralt choked out a cry when the cold fingers were replaced by something bigger. Inhuman and icy cold, O’Dimm’s cock made Geralt clench up instinctively. Without waiting, O’Dimm started to fuck into Geralt hard and deep.

The cold seeped into Geralt and made him ache. From his ass to his lower back prickled in horrid anticipation. In front of him, Dandelion stood frozen on stage, lute held up in joy, and Geralt clung to the image. This was only a moment in time. Dandelion had a lifetime ahead of him still.

“It’s always so- _hot_ -” O’Dimm slammed home one last time, “-inside of you!”

Geralt’s whole body went stiff as O’Dimm spilled, splashing like icewater inside him. A spike of pain gripped Geralt as his gut cramped but O’Dimm held him tight, refusing to let Geralt dislodge him.

Cold lips kissed the back of Geralt’s neck. “Just a moment more.” Geralt’s gut protested but he waited anyway. “There you go. That was good.” Finally, O’Dimm withdrew, he’d never gone soft and Geralt hole contracted bitterly slow where he had been. 

A chilly hand pats Geralt’s ass as if nothing has happened. “Pants up now, Geralt, the show must go on as they say.”

Geralt scrambles.

He’s got his braies and leathers up but nothing is tied when the spoon snaps and the music starts. Geralt fumbles at the laces and tries to make it to the door. Zoltan intersects him with two beers though and Geralt finds himself back in the crowd. 

Dropping into a chair Geralt groans at the lingering ache in his gut. Used and left loose, Geralt clenches his hole trying in vain to keep the slowly warming seed from leaking out into his braies. His eyes fall on Dandelion. Wide smile and floppy purple hat. One year. That is the price of Dandelion’s safety.

It’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: public sex, dubcon, manipulation, sex as currency/trade for safety of a loved one, humiliation, uncomfortable sex


	6. Two Weeks of Comfort-- Lactation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the training at Kaer Morhen the witchers endure a great many hardships, outright pains, and discomforts. Eskel discovers that one such discomfort might in fact hold more comfort for himself than he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have intentionally left the ages unstated. This occurs after the Trial of the Grasses and before the Trials of Dreams and Mountains. You are free to imagine Eskel at whatever age keeps you comfortable here- in my mind he is definitely well into the horny teenage stage here. 
> 
> CW below the jump

It was only a few weeks. Most of the fledglings wound linen bandages around their chests as instructed and waited for it to be done with, going about their training the same as all the other weeks. It wasn’t as though it caused any real pain. The ache that stretched from Eskel’s armpits to his breastbone was another of life’s many annoyances. Uncomfortable more than anything.

It was only a side effect of the way the herbs given to them to prepare them affected their hormones. Sorel said it would pass within a fortnight and when their milk had dried up it meant their bodies were ready to take the Trial of Dreams. And while Eskel looked forward to his swinging arm returning to its unhindered arc, he didn’t look forward to that.

Eskel attacked the training dummy with the same tenacity as any other day, but his precision wasn’t the same. By the time he sulked to the armory to stow his training sword on the third day, Eskel’s frustration must have shown because Vesemir pulled him aside.

Four fingers buried in Eskel’s armpit and thumb pressing down hard on the top of Eskel’s chest, Vesemir pinned him to the wall. “Listen. I know it won’t be pleasant,” Vesemir’s fingers gripped and he pulled Eskel’s tender flesh away from his chest wall, “but if you do this, it’ll let down, and your swing will improve again.”

Burning hot pain spread across Eskel’s chest under Vesemir’s hand. He clenched his jaw and sucked in a breath through his nose. A drop of milk beaded on Eskel’s nipple and leaked into his linen bandages. Releasing Eskel’s chest, Vesemir squeezed and pulled at it again. Another drop came, then another, gathering speed until Eskel’s tit dribbled into his linens. 

Vesemir sniffed the air and released Eskel. “There. Do it yourself nightly.” Without another word he walked away leaving Eskel slumped against the wall, hand pressed to his chest in mortification. 

Shoulder aching and chest throbbing, Eskel could feel the wetness spreading inside his gambeson as his milk quickly soaked his bandages. Pushing off the wall Eskel made his way back to his room, stripping down to his leathers and unwinding the wet linens. To his surprise, Eskel found his chest was no longer uncomfortable on the side Vesemir had squeezed. And while there was a lingering dull ache if Eskel touched it too hard, under it all was an immense sense of _relief_.

Eskel’s arm moved more freely and his chest felt looser, less tight. But only on the side Vesemir had wrung him dry. 

Maybe. Eskel sat on his cot and put his fingers into his armpit, the heel of his thumb resting a bit above his nipple. They’d gone puffy in the last few days, sensitive even to the touch of the bandages and Eskel was careful not to let his hand graze it.

Maybe if Eskel did it himself, like he was told, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. No different than a goat. They’d never seemed to mind when Eskel had done his chores when he was younger—before training took all his time from sun up to sun down.

Letting out a resigned breath Eskel applied pressure. Only a small amount at a time until he felt a twinge. Then he let up, adjusted and gently kneaded himself again.

This time it was nothing like the burning pain of Vesemir’s grip. Eskel squirmed in his pants where he sat on his bed. His whole tit was warm and his nipple had budded up hard by the time the first droplet appeared clinging to the tip of it. In a confusing turn of events, Eskel didn’t think his cock was far behind either.

Wadding up the wet linen bandages Eskel held them under his tit with one hand and milked himself with the other. In his own hands, under his own control, it didn’t hurt at all. A tingling line of arousal had formed connecting his chest to his cock. The relief of pressure so euphoric Eskel had to bite his lip to stay quiet as drops gathered together to form a rivulet of milk winding down his tit into the cloth.

The more milk Eskel let out the bolder he got. Squeezing his fingers down the sides of his tit to gently pinch his nipple. It sent a shock of pleasure straight to his cock. He let his finger circle the swollen nub of his nipple, wetting it with his own milk before slipping it through his thumb and forefinger again. Eskel’s tit squirted into the linen and heat filled his thighs. Crossing his legs he rocked on the bed in a bid to give his cock friction as he milked himself dry. 

When a last strong pinch could wring no more from his tit, it was all Eskel could do to stuff his bandages in the wash and make it back to his cot. He struggled out of his leathers and slipped under the covers. The smell of his own milk was strong in the air when his hand finally found his cock. Geralt would be back up from the dining hall soon and Eskel rocked into his hand.

The smooth heat of his cock was familiar in Eskel’s hand and he let himself drift in his mind. He imagined Geralt stumbling upon him as he emptied his tits. Wondered if Geralt would take one if Eskel offered it to him. If they could share and what Geralt’s swollen nipple would feel like leaking on his tongue. With a loud growl Eskel spilled in his hand, fingers flicking softly at his own nipple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: male lactation (completely unrelated to reproduction), masturbation, fantasizing, lack of bodily autonomy


	7. Good Use-- Cunnilingus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wonder what drew Lambert and Kiera together? Me too.

Keira’s skin hums and tingles under Lambert’s fingertips. It’s a little bit startling at first, but she controls her face well; she never expected Lambert to touch her without his gloves on—let alone like this. It’s not that Keira had thought Lambert was solely attracted to men, he’s boasted loudly, lewdly, and long enough about any number of whores and washerwomen to convince her that he is amenable to either when the mood strikes him. It had been more the way he spit her name out of his mouth, ‘Metz’—like a curse—that had convinced Keira Lambert wasn’t going to be interested in her.

So when Keira had snidely told Lambert that she would rather his mouth be shut if he couldn’t do anything good with it and he had snapped back that he could do things with his mouth worth her appreciation, she had only laughed as she walked away. She hadn’t expected him to follow her. To open the door to the room she had been staying in and close it silently behind himself. To challenge her.

“You think I’m lying, Metz?” Lambert’s arms had been crossed over his chest. Leaning back against the door he’d looked like he had no intention of moving while he’d leveled his accusation but something about his eyebrows had given Keira the impression that Lambert wasn’t angry. For once.

“I’ve no way of knowing now do I?” She’d challenged him back and oh how he’d lit up.

And now Lambert is proving Keira wrong. In every way with every touch. Fingertips lighting up the tender skin of her breast and gold eyes watching her from between her legs. Lambert worships silently. Lips sealed around her swollen clit, tongue circling it slow as the devil, flicking it and sucking it free from its hooded shelter.

Keira gasps. It’s too much but Lambert has moved on, tongue flat and wide licking from the bottom of her pussy to the top. His eyes never waver, watching her intently and on the next pass his tongue barely parts her lips, dipping inside to taste her wetness.

Lambert points his tongue and thrusts it into her; again and again until Keira lifts her hips in an attempt to ride it. His hands hum against her skin and hold her hips in place—mouth sealed to her body, tongue delving deep inside—and Keira feels _seen_. It’s as though Lambert can read her desires and is shockingly willing to deliver.

When Lambert draws his tongue out it’s to drag it pointed, wet, and muscular up the spread of Keira’s lips to circle her clit again. His hands move and Keira is pinned open wide. Thumbs spreading her lips and opening her pussy to Lambert’s gaze. He doesn’t waist time looking though, but dives back in—slow circles of his tongue teasing the entrance to Keira’s pussy.

Keira grips Lambert’s hair, tugging it up in messy bunches that stick from all the oil he uses in it. He licks her from bottom to top again and again, stopping to dip inside each time. When he settles on her clit once more Keira keens and pushes up into his mouth hard. His tongue flicks fast along the side of it pouring pleasure into her, filling her pussy with a sizzling heat that catches fire.

Pulling Lambert’s hair hard Keira grinds her pussy into his mouth as she rides out her orgasm. When it ebbs she stares down between her breasts—heaving, small, and perfectly pert—into Lambert’s gold eyes full of satisfaction. He gives a long flat lick to her pussy that makes her _shiver_.

“Again?” Lambert’s voice is low, dirty, rough with lust and it makes Keira’s heart speed. 

_Oh Lambert is right, his mouth is worth every bit of her time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: oral sex


	8. Zipped Up- Corset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt drunkenly admits that he feels it should have been him to wear Yen's corset that night in Kaer Morhen. He would have dropped it but Eskel doesn't let it go that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is set in the same universe as my main work [Finding Center](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622039/chapters/44157295) and the follow up collaborations between bookscorpion and I which are all contained in the series [The World of US](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612003). It can be read as a stand alone or along side those. Just know that Duncan and Rhys, mentioned in the story are in a polyamorous relationship with the witchers and reside in London in the Shadowrun universe, the witchers portal between the two worlds.

In the ork’s bathroom Geralt stood in front of half mirror over the sink staring at his reflection. Nervousness fluttered in his stomach like a caged butterfly. His own face stared back at him questioning why. 

_Why are you worried? You asked for this._

Geralt looked away from the mirror and slipped the silver crushed velvet corset around his waist. Feeding the edge of the zipper into the pull Geralt held his breath and drew it up. It held him in a firm hug and Geralt exhaled at the warm flicker of pleasure it ignited in him. He set his palms on his waist and ran them down the luxurious fabric to his hips. 

A glance up in the mirror made his heart jump. All flat planes, silver fabric, and pale flesh, the corset started just below Geralt’s nipples and stretched to the middle of his pelvis. His cock hung below it, already thickening with anticipation. Cupping his cock to himself Geralt gave it a reassuring squeeze. Alight, this was a good idea.

It had been over too much wine that Geralt had confessed to Eskel his annoyance at _Eskel _being the one to think he had the waist for Yen’s corset when they’d raided her trunk in Kaer Morhen. At first nothing had come of it but later, _sober_ , Eskel had pressed the point. Then he’d enlisted Rhys’ help in acquiring more measurements than had been strictly necessary for a suit. And when the orks went to Brighton on a job for few days a flat box emblazoned ‘Thekla’s’ had appeared on the bed when Geralt headed in that night.__

__Now that Geralt was seeing himself in it, any hesitation about whether or not Eskel would be pleased with the sight was fast leaving Geralt behind. He padded over and opened the door to the bedroom stepping out with his cock still shielded in his hand. Eskel was naked, pillows piled up under his shoulders and behind his head, legs slightly spread and already stroking his cock._ _

__The way Eskel’s lips parted slightly and his hand gripped the base of his cock hard when Geralt approached the foot of the bed brought a playful curl to Geralt’s mouth. “Yeah? Like what you bought?”_ _

__“Fuck yes. You’re gorgeous.” Eskel’s voice was too low, already rough with lust, and it sent a thrill through Geralt to know he was the one that caused that._ _

__Geralt had considered for a moment asking Eskel lace him up. Having him to cinch the back up tight to hold Geralt in even more firmly but the hungry look on Eskel’s face derailed the thought before it made it to Geralt’s mouth. Instead Geralt crawled up on the end of the bed, prowling up the length of Eskel’s body._ _

__Watching Eskel from under his lashes, Geralt licked the head of Eskel’s cock, musk and salt mixing on his tongue. He kissed Eskel’s belly, nuzzling into the soft trail of dark brown hair there. Then kissed one of Eskel’s nipples, the metal of the barbell cool on Geralt’s lips until he started flicking it with his tongue._ _

__Eskel sucked in a breath under him and Geralt chuckled. Gods, Eskel was so easy to please, he ran from it like a rabbit but once you trapped him he was simple._ _

__And Geralt did have Eskel trapped right now. He was pinned underneath Geralt, eyes transfixed on his waist, hands resting featherlight on the crushed velvet of Geralt’s corset. Geralt was straddling Eskel’s chest on his knees, his hard cock nestled over Eskel’s breastbone in the tantalizing valley between the thick muscles of Eskel’s chest._ _

__Eskel’s hands stroked Geralt’s waist, urging him forward, and Geralt moved easily at the suggestion. It drove the head of his cock along Eskel’s chest. Soft skin meeting firm muscle in a delicious slide. “Oh.” Geralt pushed down on his cock and rolled his hips again, increasing the friction. “Shit, that’s good.”_ _

__In long, deliberately slow teasing strokes Geralt fucked his cock across Eskel’s chest. Eskel’s eyes rapt on the lewd show only spurred Geralt on and he reached down rolling his thumb over Eskel’s hard pebbled nipple. It earned Geralt a guttural grunt, causing Eskel to push his chest up into Geralt’s hand and along with it his cock._ _

__Carefully Geralt plucked and tugged at the gold bars in Eskel’s nipples, watching in drunk wonder as Eskel’s eyes blew wide. Even through the thick layers of the corset Geralt could feel Eskel’s fingers squeeze into his waist. The dry brush of soft skin on skin had turned slick and sticky with Geralt’s precum and Geralt rutted into it palms pressing the muscles of Eskel’s chest tighter around himself._ _

__Through his own heartbeat pounding in his ears Geralt could hear Eskel. Every other breath was held too long then panted out. One of Eskel’s hands had fallen behind Geralt and was moving in a slow jerky rhythm._ _

__Geralt started to lose his own rhythm. “Gonna-”_ _

__“On me. Please.” Eskel’s plea was desperate and low. Begging. Eskel’s needy words combined with the sensitive slide of Geralt’s cock head shot pleasure up Geralt’s spine and he spilled hot come on Eskel’s skin._ _

__It landed in pearly white streaks on Eskel’s collarbone and pooled in the hollow at the base of his neck. Above it Eskel’s honey eyes were swallowed by hazy black lakes. He shook under Geralt and closed his eyes. Head tipping back and to the side Eskel pushed his face into the pillows and cried out cum spilling onto Geralt’s bare ass._ _

__For a few breathless moments Geralt could only stare down at Eskel. Watching his chest heave and his body shiver while the high ebbed away. One of Eskel’s hands still rested lovingly on Geralt’s waist but it was slowly slipping. Reality set back in when Geralt saw the cum puddled on Eskel’s neck and had to suppress a shudder of his own that had nothing to do with arousal._ _

__Eskel’s hand slipped easily from him and he didn’t even look up when Geralt stretched over to the bedside drawer for the stash of wet wipes there. The cold touch made Eskel shiver harder but as soon as Geralt had wiped away the mess on Eskel’s neck and stomach he draped himself over Eskel for a kiss._ _

__With a little nudging and a moment for Geralt to unzip the corset, he snuggled under the covers with Eskel curled in front of him. Arm tucked under Eskel’s, Geralt wrapped it around to stroke the soft skin over Eskel’s breastbone, up to the hollow at the base of his neck and back down. “Thank you.” A huge breath shuddered out of Eskel’s chest and Geralt didn’t worry that Eskel had no words right now._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: corsets, Eskel with nipple piercings, Eskel feeling a little subby towards the end


	9. Colors that Suit You- Waxplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel brings a treat back to the Continent for Geralt from Thekla's in London. Something Eskel is certain Geralt will enjoy immensely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set alongside a collaboration I write with bookscorpion the series The World of Us, particularly relevant is the story of the witchers going to London in [London Calling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363516/chapters/53426533) for the first time.

There was no denying it. It felt _good_. If Eskel were the type of person to let someone else take control of him and boss him around he would _enjoy_ this, and he was absolutely sure that Geralt would too. And Rhys for that matter. Using his fingernail to hook the edge of the black wax, Eskel flaked the still luke warm wax spill off into the nearby garbage. Rolling down his sleeve and buttoning the cuff before anyone could see how much more quickly the red marks faded from him than others, Eskel studied the display table.

“I’ll take two sets.” Eying the colors already, Eskel was trying to decide what would suit Geralt best.

“Each set comes with three of the small pitcher candles. You get to pick your colors. What are you thinking?” Thekla brought up a tray of candles from the glass case, long arms reaching down into it with ease.

“How about two black, one yellow, one forest green, a blue, and a white?” The black Eskel was sure of. The yellow would look like gold on Rhys and remind him of their auras when mixed with the green. Geralt was more of a guess, he liked the way blue looked on him and was curious about the contrast of the black and white.

“I think your boys will be very happy with you.” Thekla flashed Eskel a knowing smile while he transferred the credits and she bagged his items.

Eskel wanted to curl up inside at the thought of all the things Thekla had likely learned of him and his partners by now, but instead he controlled his face with practiced ease that he didn’t really feel inside. Not really a smile, though he was sure his scars wouldn’t scare someone who could easily snap him like a twig, but certainly not a frown either.

It was so much easier to come here and shop for things with Rhys. His outgoing personality and easy flowing conversation served as a great emotional shield for Eskel, and Eskel admired it. Despite Geralt’s insistence that all these same things could be bought through the trid and delivered discreetly by drone Eskel wasn’t keen on that idea at all. 

If he was going to buy something to use intimately he needed to be able to see it, feel it, maybe even smell it. Nothing was worse than getting what Eskel thought would be amazing new rope only to find out there was no possible way to get the chemical dye smell out of it. Sometimes having such acute senses was a gift and sometimes it was a bizarre curse.

The fact that Thekla’s often set up little demos like this was a refreshing bonus. If Eskel ever wanted to bring a new surprise to the bedroom it meant he had to either get creative on his own or venture here alone.

“Thanks, see ya ‘round.” Eskel nodded politely and took his bag. The little glass pitchers were each individually nested in recycled paper shreds inside an acrylic box with three compartments to separate them and a sliding lid on top. The acrylic was formed and colored to look exactly like wood. Tucking the bag inside his leather messenger bag Eskel started his trek back to the ork’s apartment.

There was no way he could take the not really wood but looks-like-wood acrylic box back to the continent. Eskel was certain he could take the small glass pitchers with their tiny lipped spouts, colored waxes, and natural wicks back with him when he and Geralt returned later that week though. The other box with its black, green, and yellow-gold candles would stay here, in London in the stash of things the orks kept for them when they visited. It would be a fun thing to bring to Tŵr Mawr lighthouse, next time Rhys took him there.

The portal back was uneventful. Eskel and Geralt stepped back out into the dirt covered addition behind the R&T in Novigrad. Grass and weeds had sometime since started to grow in the earth heaped on the roof to keep the temperature stable. Unlocking the dimeritium padlock they had secured the inside of the door with, they went through the false door at the back, and closed the it quickly behind them. 

They were left standing in a room of stale hay and stored winter vegetables. Heading out the door of the it was still the dead of night, just as it had been when they had stepped through to Wales a week before. Not a second had passed and it was an odd feeling. Like stealing time with their lovers.

It was their habit to come and go in the middle of the night, while renting the Ruby Room upstairs to minimize the chances of being discovered. The main door of the hidden portal room let out into the new root cellar, a way for Duncan and Rhys to get their horses back and forth, and the usual way of coming and going. For emergencies though. There was a tunnel dug from the portal room to a trapdoor in the R&T’s basement. That, Eskel hoped they never had to use.

Creeping back into the cabaret felt like sneaking back into Kaer Morhen after a particularly rowdy prank when he was a boy. Eskel was slowly growing rather fond of the feeling too. The orks had brought some real enjoyment back into their lives. A reason for being, besides just killing monsters, making coin, and coming home alive.

The bed was not as comfortable as the mattresses in London but Eskel drew Geralt into his arms and immediately fell asleep anyway. The Ruby Room held a lot of fond memories by now. Of Geralt. Of Rhys. Of the three of them. Even of the four of them, Duncan included, just snuggling and sleeping on the giant bed. 

One of the only Eskel had ever seen that could hold all four of them without threatening collapse. It was a close cuddle sure, but there was something to be said for custom made beds in not so standardized sizes. Their world had that going for it at least.

Eskel woke early while Geralt remained stubbornly drowsy in bed. Dressing in his full armor again Eskel jogged down the stairs light on his feet to pester Dandy for some breakfast. Instead he found Priscilla, chatting away with the cook. There was no porridge yet, but the cook gladly set him up with a few boiled robins eggs, a round of soft goat cheese in a cloth, a slice of yesterdays cold salt pork. Eskel took it all gratefully, kissed Priscilla on the cheek and told her they would be off early for Corvo Bianco. 

After promising to make Geralt say goodbye first, Eskel headed back upstairs to rouse and feed his grumpy wolf.

The candles rode softly clinking in Eskel’s saddlebag all the way back to Corvo Bianco. If Geralt noticed he said nothing. The noise was audible to Eskel and he wondered frequently if Geralt would catch it and comment on the new sound but he never did.

But when Eskel set them out on the night stand next to the silver wolf bowl he’d bought Geralt for his medallion when they played, Geralt _noticed_.

“Where did those comes from?” If he was aiming for nonchalance Geralt failed miserably. The interest in his voice was a living thing, waiting on his held breath for the answer.

“I brought them back.” Shrugging, Eskel managed to keep his own voice noncommittal.

“Because?” There was a lilting tone to Geralt’s question. “We have plenty of candles here in case you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, I know. But look at the colors.” Eskel walked up into Geralt’s space, putting his arms around him and mumbling into Geralt’s shoulder as he continued. “We don’ get blue like that here. ‘Sides, I thought I might see how they looked all over _you_.”

“Eskel. You can’t be serious. You can’t just pour hot melted wax all over me. You’ll burn the shit out of me.” Geralt sounded half aroused, half horrified at the the thought. And Eskel let out a low chuckle. He’d burned Geralt a time or two and they had played with fire. It wasn’t exactly uncharted territory for them, but it required a certain _mood_. Both for Geralt and for him. Geralt clearly wasn’t in that mood.

“An’ if I said these candles won’t burn you, that they’re _different_? They’ll feel hot an’ leave you red for a bit, but the wax is cooler than the beeswax or tallow like you get here. Tha’s why I brought ‘em back.” Eskel kissed Geralt’s neck. Set his open mouth against it and sucked hard at Geralt’s skin until Geralt let out a soft moan. “That I bought them jus’ for you an’ me to play with?”

Geralt blew out a breath and turned his head over his shoulder to look at Eskel behind him. Reaching back with his hand he caught Eskel’s head and pulled Eskel into a deep kiss. “Then I would say: yes, please.”

Splayed out on the floor like a sacrifice, Geralt couldn’t hold still. His body didn’t move, but his hands did. The pads of his fingers rubbing against his thumbs, toes flexing and stretching, feet straining. Eskel had Igni’d the candles to life next to him. Flames softly flickering, barely adding to the shadows thrown by the much larger candelabras in the corners of the room.

Walking around the room Eskel was putting the finishing touches on how he wanted to do this. Bringing a pillow and placing it under Geralt’s head. Setting a bowl of cold stream water on the floor with a few cloths in it. 

Geralt’s cock pulsed lightly with the beat of his heart and Eskel stepped over him. Taking a moment to admire the sight, the way Geralt’s chest rose and fell in naked anticipation, Eskel gave him a half smile before dropping down on his knees to straddle him.

“You ready?” Eskel ran his hands down Geralt’s arms and linked their fingers. Taking Geralt’s arms above his head and out to the side Eskel pulled them into a long stretch as he dipped down for a kiss.

Underneath him Geralt wriggled and hummed affirmatively into his mouth, hips trying to grind up. “Yes.” The word came out breathless and Eskel grinned.

With a last squeeze to Geralt’s fingers he lowered his voice and made it stern. “Don’t move.” 

The glass pitcher was warm in Eskel’s hand and he spilled it generously in a long line from Geralt’s hip up diagonally to opposite nipple. Deep gorgeous blue bisecting Geralt’s torso.

“Oh shit!” Geralt’s chest rocked up into the wax, head coming off the wooden floor before thumping back into it with a guttural groan, breath coming in frantic pants. 

Eskel set the candle down and pinched the nipple not splashed in wax firmly, lifting it away from Geralt’s chest. “You moved.”

“Shit. Shit. Sorry.” Geralt’s hands balled into fists, opening and flexing above him. “I-”

“Do you like it?” Eskel released Geralt’s nippled and thumbed over the darkening bud lightly. All he got in return was a frantic nod.

Picking up the white candle, Eskel put his hand down on Geralt’s chest, leaning his weight into it. Holding Geralt down, he deliberately dripped wax onto the nipple he’d just pinched.

Geralt sucked in air, whining and trying in vain to squirm while Eskel built up a hot mound of wax, then spiraled it out. Wider and wider until he ran out.

The black wax was the most exotic, the most erotic. Standing out sharp on Geralt’s pale skin everywhere Eskel let it fall. Over the edge of his ribs down to the tender vee of his hips.

Eskel ran his finger over the leaking head of Geralt’s cock, teasing the slit until it was tender. Licking his finger he stood up and toed Geralt’s legs apart dropping back between them. Eskel hooked the edge of his finger on a piece of wax and peeled it back and tongued the head of Geralt’s cock at the same time.

“Gonna suck you. Want you to peel all this off, don’t come ‘til your done.” One hand on the inside of each of Geralt’s thighs, high enough that his thumbs brushed the cheeks of Geralt’s ass, Eskel swallowed him down.

The taste of Geralt was heady. Bitter musk at the back of Eskel’s throat and salt sliding along his tongue. He worked fast, spurred on by the choppy gurgling sounds of Geralt’s arousal above him. The jerky movement of Geralt’s hands scrambling to pick and pull and scrape the hardened wax from his skin obscured by Eskel’s own desire to please Geralt.

“Please. Please, Eskel.” Quiet words of need implored Eskel. Geralt’s head thumped into the floor again and a long groaning sigh slipped out of him. “Oh, yesss.” Eskel’s mouth was filled with warm cum and he swallowed it down, swallowing around Geralt’s cock and then licking it clean in long laps that made Geralt shiver.

Geralt was limp on the floor and Eskel wiped him down with the cool cloths. Gathering Geralt up in his arms Eskel carried him to the bed and laid him there. Eskel shucked his own leathers and braies, tucking himself up behind Geralt, ignoring the way his hard cock pressed against Geralt’s ass.

Nuzzling into Geralt’s neck Eskel whispered to him all his praises, all his love, and all his thanks letting Geralt drift peacefully in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: wax play, BDSM scene, orgasm delay


	10. Sweet Shani- Medical Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has a severe dislike for any kind of examination due to his experiences in his youth during the Trials. Shani has offered to help him in an attempt to explore making this a more pleasurably experience for himself.
> 
> "Geralt-" 
> 
> The extra firmness in Shani's voice startled Geralt to a halt mid-movement. He looked up at her with his arms caught in his sleeves and eyes a little too wide.
> 
> "-do you want to be undressed?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW in the end notes
> 
> These are coming late but they are still here!

Geralt eyed the wooden table. Shani had placed a rolled woolen blanket at the head as a pillow. Sad Albert never had a pillow.

Geralt started to strip his tunic off while he stepped out of his boots, catching the heel of one with the toe of the other in a practiced move. 

"Geralt-" 

The extra firmness in Shani's voice startled Geralt to a halt mid-movement. He looked up at her with his arms caught in his sleeves and eyes a little too wide.

"-do you want to be undressed?"

"Uhm." Fuck. What kind of question was that? "If I get up on the exam table I need to be undressed." Safe answer.

"Only if you _want_ to be." The soft voice was back. Sweet Shani. "We can do this with you dressed too. It's your body. The choice is yours."

Geralt watched Shani carefully as he pulled his tunic back over his head. He toed off his other boot and smiled at her. 

Crossing the short distance to the table Geralt hopped up easily. Gripping the sides of the table with his hands, Geralt crossed his ankles and swung his legs nervously while Shani observed. She still hadn't moved but she was smiling at him.

"Thank you." Bringing her hands together in front of herself Shani's eyes never left Geralt's. "Would it be alright if I came and listened to you chest?"

"Mmhm." Geralt nodded.

Flexing his fingers against the table to loosen them as Shani approached Geralt closed his eyes and counted in his head. He opened them again at the gentle touch of Shani's hand on his back and looked down at her copper hair while she pressed an ear to his chest.

"Deep breath."

Geralt complied. This was child's play. It was like Shani giving him a hug. A hand on his back and the side of her face pressed to his chest.

"Can I take my tunic off?" Geralt wasn't really sure it _mattered_ , but the idea was for him to enjoy this and if Shani was going to rest her head on his chest he wanted to feel her hair.

Shani pulled back beaming. "Of course!" 

She took Geralt's tunic from him when he lifted it over his head again. This time, Shani folded it neatly, placing it on the side board. "That was very good. Thank you. Can I give you a reward?"

Geralt nodded eagerly.

Shani moved back in close. The slow decent of her face towards Geralt's assured him of what was to come. When her lips connected with his Geralt took his reward greedily. Pouring some of his tension out into the kiss while Shani's hand petted his chest aimlessly. Shani was so pretty and sweet on the surface, but fierce as any soldier Geralt had known on the inside, and to have her pleased with him made him melt.

Without even thinking about it Geralt laid back onto the table, one hand behind Shani’s head to bring her with him. She followed him seamlessly and when the kiss broke Geralt had a buoyancy he lacked before. Tethered to the surface by Shani’s sweetness.

Shani’s fingers walked down Geralt’s chest from his breastbone to his belly. Glittering green eyes smiled at him the whole time. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah.” Geralt answered with a smile of his own and found he actually meant it.

Lightly brushing back up, Shani’s fingers found Geralt’s nipple and circled it softly—just the pad of her forefinger. “Does this feel good or bad or neither?”

Geralt’s breath fell out of his chest. “Good.” It made his cock twitch in his trousers and he blinked his eyes leadenly. The barely there sensation prickled at Geralt’s nerves, drawing his nipple up as it sought something more that never came. He waited. And waited. His mind narrowing down to that one coin-sized spot and the methodical circle of Shani’s finger around it, wishing for more.

A guttural breathless moan choked Geralt, his groin flooding with cold prickly heat at the firm grasp of Shani’s thumb and forefinger pulling his nipple taut away from his chest wall. 

A warm hand splayed on Geralt’s breastbone gently guiding him back down to the table where he’d rocked off of it slightly. “Good, bad, or neither?”

Geralt swallowed hard. “G-” Oh Gods. His cock was getting hard. “Good.” Shani’s fingers moved and rolled Geralt’s nipple between them making him suck in a breath.

“More?”

“Yes, please.” That needy voice couldn’t have been his, but Gods this was good and Shani had barely started. The hand on his breastbone curved to rake blunt fingernails softly down Geralt’s chest to his abdomen and back up again. Teasing and eventually trapping his other nipple the same way, while Shani continued to roll and pinch the first one.

Closing his eyes Geralt inhaled deeply trying to slow his lungs. The scents of the room swirled in his head. Shani smelled like fresh water, dried cinnamon bark, and astringent alcohol. Or was it alchohest? There was mandrake, honeysuckle, and bryonia. The acrid smell of vitriol stung at the edge of Geralt’s senses and he opened his eyes to the ceiling above him.

The oil pane windows cast the hardwood beams in bogwater green. Geralt turned his head slightly and silver glinted off of the crystal panes of the cabinet like Osbert’s sword on his back as Geralt followed him down the hall-

“-Geralt.”

“Hmm.” Rolling his head back Geralt to looked at Shani. Chest aching her hands had stilled over his nipples and were warm under his. Face flattening in confusion, Geralt gently thumbed along Shani’s hands where he held them cupped to his chest. When had he done that? “I’m alright.” Clearing his throat Geralt clarified. “I’m here now.”

“Since you’ve got my wrist, why don’t I check your pulse? I’ll show you how I do it.” Shani pulled one hand away and Geralt let her, chagrined that he’d held her in the first place. Shani wasn’t doing anything Geralt didn’t want. Hadn’t agreed to. He’d just gotten a little bit lost.

Turning her wrist over in Geralt’s hand Shani placed Geralt’s finger over one side and pressed gently. “Like this. Feel that?” The tug of the corner of Shani’s mouth pulled Geralt’s heart with it. Beneath his fingers her blood flowed in a steady lub dub thump and for a while Geralt laid simply taking in the way life felt in his hand.

“Yeah. Feels beautiful to me.” Geralt had to smile. It was sappy sure, but it was true. Shani was beautiful and treated him with a care few others bothered to give to their fellows let alone a witcher. Eventually Geralt let his hand slip free and offered up his wrist to her in return. Shani’s fingers were delicate, pressing into his skin in the same way, sure of their mark. 

After a moment her smile split into a an impish grin. “Slow and steady. I’d like to check your ribs now, is that alright?”

Geralt nodded. She kept asking him that, like he was going to say ‘no’ and he wanted to say ‘I won’t’ but that wasn’t the point of this was it? Fingers danced down the sides of Geralt’s ribs and he thanked the Gods he wasn’t ticklish.

“How many of these have you broken?”

“All of them.” Shani frowned for the first time. Pressing her hands into his sides firmly she instructed Geralt to breath in. The pressure of her hands on the sides of Geralt’s ribcage was comforting in a strange way—solid but not binding like the straps of Sad Albert.

“At least they’ve healed well.” Stepping away, Shani returned with a small parchment and quill.

“I’m good at healing.”

“You are good at many things, Geralt.” Shani pulled up a stool and took a seat next to his table. “Tell me, where did you get this scar?” Her hand went to the long line over his left eye, making Geralt blink.

“Cockarice, Spalla.”

“I see.” Scribbling on her page with her right hand Shani caressed Geralt’s eyebrow and cheekbone. “No damage to your eyesight. That’s important.”

“No. I can still see you’re beautiful.” Geralt pinned Shani’s wrist to his lips for a moment and then let her go, hand falling still at his side. She wasn’t just beautiful she was _smart_ and kind. Geralt almost wished she would drop this charade and touch him more.

“Along with a great many other things, I suspect. Can witchers see farther than humans?” Shani’s hand moved around to finger at the several scar on Geralt’s left forearm.

“No,” Geralt smiled and let out a small laugh, “just better in the dark.”

“Oh! That’s interesting.” More scribbling. “This scar?”

“Vodyanoy, Bremervoord.”

The questioning look Shani gave Geralt betrayed a genuine thirst for knowledge and he laughed a little harder. “Fish people. Pretty advanced civilizations. Bad tempers.”

Shani’s eyebrows shot up, her quill remain dead still. “Mermaids?”

“Similar, but not quite.”

“Geralt, you will tell me more later.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me.”

They dissolved into a pile of giggles with Shani laying over Geralt’s chest and hugging her tight. She was so warm and welcoming in his arms that Geralt was reminded how much he wanted her to touch him still. “Can we take my trousers off now?” he whispered conspiratorially in her ear.

“Absolutely.” Shani pulled back slowly with a delicious smile and cupped Geralt’s cock through his clothes. “We’ll check everything.”

The touch brought a low moan from Geralt. His cock was so confused, wavering back and forth between severe dislike and distrust of people _prodding_ at him and eager excitement at the potential of Shani touching it, even in the most innocuous way. And Geralt really hoped it wouldn’t be innocuous by the end of this. Geralt brought his feet to the edge of the table and propped his heels there lifting his ass as Shani loosened his laces. She slid his elegant black trousers down with his braies and Geralt was glad to be free of them. He let his legs dangle again so she could slip them off his bare feet.

The table was only a little bit cold on Geralt’s bare ass, having already been warmed by his body for a while. He must have shivered anyway though because Shani came at him with a blanket. It was draped over Geralt’s middle, and covered him from mid thigh to nipples, leaving a telltale tent in the middle.

Shani stood at the foot of the table and lifted Geralt’s right foot, rotating the ankle for him. It was odd to be moved when he wasn’t broken but Shani’s hands chased away the chill and he allowed it. “This is the leg you crushed isn’t it?”

“Mhmm.” Geralt stifled a groan when the heel of Shani’s hand began to kneed just above the knee. The pressure was expert and the way it made his muscle twitch and give in felt embarrassingly good.

“Any lingering pain?”

“Only when it gets cold.”

“Well, we’ll be sure to keep you very warm then.” The grip and squeeze, kneed pull and release of Shani’s hand crept up Geralt’s thigh.

Geralt found his breath coming deep and slow. “I’d like that. A lot.” Spreading his legs without thinking Geralt let himself relax into the touch. At first Shani gripped and tugged at the tightness and tension through the blanket over his upper thigh, then cautiously slipped her fingers under the edge pushing it up. Geralt sighed at the soft touch of her bare hands as they traveled higher. 

Cock pulsing faintly under the cover with every touch to his leg Geralt closed his eyes and let himself drift. Safe with sweet Shani.

Wood scraped and Geralt’s foot was lifted up to the edge of the table and out to the side. “Just a big stretch. Set it here for alright?” His foot was rested on wood and Geralt blinked his eyes open lazily to see that Shani had swing a wooden arm from under the table to give him a place to set it.

“Mm-” Geralt nodded his head and closed his eyes again. Safe. It opened him up and Geralt thought he should have felt exposed with his balls hanging down between his lags and cock probably on view now that the blanket had ridden up but he didn’t. Shani was right the stretch was satisfying, reminding his muscles of where they could move.

Shani rotated Geralt’s other ankle. Worked her hands up his calf. At the twitch and quiver of his thigh under her hand Geralt let slip the moan he’d been holding in. His cock ached for attention and Geralt could swear his ass was clenching along with it.

“Let’s stretch this one too.” 

“Please.” The scrape of wood and Geralt was open to Shani. He bucked up into her hot hand when it laid over his cock. “Oh Gods. Please.” 

“What do you want, Geralt?”

“Touch me.” Rolling his hips into Shani’s hand Geralt moaned quietly to himself. Shani’s fingers curled lightly around his shaft and Geralt canted up into her loose grip, slowly slipping himself through her fingers. “Yes.”

“Touch you how? I want you to tell me. I need to know exactly what you want.” Gods Shani’s voice was like silk, soft and strong all at once.

“I want-” Geralt started and stopped. They’d talked about this. This was Geralt’s time on the table. It wasn’t like all those other times. He could have what _he_ wanted. This wasn’t about what others did to him whether he agreed or not. Tipping his hips Geralt fucked his cock through Shani’s fingers for a while longer, gaining confidence. “-want your fingers.”

The loose grip grounding Geralt to reality never wavered and he rocked gently on the table, enough to slip his cock through Shani’s fingers steadily but never enough to push himself over the edge. He wanted her to do that. To wrest control from him gently.

Another hand joined Shani’s first. This one teasing fingers over Geralt’s sac, making it draw up. Arousal simmered behind it, aching to be let out. “Here?” 

Geralt held his breath and thrust into Shani’s hand. “Or here?” The hand on his sac disappeared and a finger circled the leaking head of cock, spreading precum around the slit. It made Geralt gasp but he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head no and the finger left.

The ghost of a sensation brushed over his hole and Geralt keen lowly. It circled his pucker and when Geralt rocked his hips down it was wasn’t a ghost anymore. It was real, it was warm, it was flesh and blood and what he _wanted_.

“Here?”

“Gods. Yes. Please, Shani.”

The pitiful whine that slipped out when the finger disappeared startled Geralt. Gods. He could have done this to himself with half the shame.

“Shhh. You need oil. I’m not going to hurt you.” And moments later Shani’s finger returned this time warm and wet with oil.

The rock and roll of Geralt’s hips slipped it in easily and his cock dripped on his stomach, tangling the head sticky in the blanket but Geralt was too lost to care. Every time he let his hip fall flat to the table his cock slid through Shani’s hand, her finger and thumb teasing the crown. It drew her finger inside him out and stroked the pad of it over his nerves setting them on fire.

Pleasure would race up Geralt’s cock and he would cant his hips forward, thrusting through her fingers and fucking himself on the one she’d sunk into him. Back and forth. Geralt lost himself in the waves of ecstasy. A rocking ship lost at sea until with a sudden shout he crashed on the rocks. Body clamping down hard and choking on his own breath and he spilled in Shani’s hand.

The room was a haze, dark ambers and deep yellows thrown by candles burning low. Geralt was warm, covered in a blanket up to his shoulders with a some kind of pillow under his head. It took him a moment to realize he was still laying on Shani’s exam table, legs dangled back down. A glance down revealed Shani’s short cropped copper hair pillowed on his inner thigh. Her warm hand lay cupped over Geralt’s soft cock.

“Hey there, beautiful.” 

“Geralt,” Shani beamed at him and it made Geralt’s heart flutter happily, “that was absolutely amazing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW-  
> medical play  
> prostate play  
> past trauma


	11. An Unreasonable Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been really quite an unfortunate situation in which Dandelion first become aware of his embarrassing enthusiasm for fullness. He’d gone to Vilmerius Hospital and been treated by the good doctor there for an ache in his stomach. 
> 
> Later, after an aching few minutes and visit to the outhouse Dandelion had hurried back to The Rosemary and Thyme. Face burning red he wondered what it would feel like in the comfort of his own bed, beached like a whale, filled to the brim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my usual fair so beware the content warnings. I definitely went out of my box for kinktober on this one.
> 
> CW:  
> enemas ( _there is no scat in this fic_ )  
> fullness  
> desperation  
> embarrassment  
> discovered- both kink being discovered and being discovered in the middle of kink  
> kind of an omoroshi feel of things just with holding something else

It had been really quite an unfortunate situation in which Dandelion first become aware of his embarrassing enthusiasm for fullness. He’d gone to Vilmerius Hospital with an awful ache in his stomach that felt like a stone. 

Like any reasonable man, Dandelion had followed directions and disrobed laying on the bed with a thin sheet up to his midriff. Joachim palpated Dandelion’s abdomen with such an inconceivable accuracy that it made Dandelion blink back tears and gasp.

“Roll over.” 

Well then, Dandelion thought. That was unceremo- _OH MY GODS_! A well oiled finger snaked into Dandelions arse without any warning and he jumped on the bed. 

“Some warning Dr. Von Gratz, please!” Glaring over his shoulder Dandelion hugged his legs to his chest. The finger retreated and then returned with something else—cold and more solid.

“Well. You want to feel better don’t you Julian. This is the way. Quiet now and don’t wake my other patients.” Joachim squeezed the cheeks of Dandelion’s ass together trapping the cold thing inside him. 

While it was true Dandelion did want to feel better, and that he might even have enjoyed the good doctor diddling his arse on a different day, Dandelion simply hadn’t been prepared. He didn’t think a bit of warning was too much to ask for really, and the lack of it certainly left him put out.

The sudden in-rush of warm water over his insides made Dandelion clench his arsehole tightly, terrified that whatever the doctor had slipped into it would fly out. “Ohhh.” Dandelion shook on the table, arms wrapped around his waist. 

Water sloshed up inside of him and stretched him open. Filling Dandelion deeper than any fingers or cock ever had before and to his absolute horror his own cock started to swell between his legs. The water swirled around inside of him and found every crevice, warming him up.

“Doing well there, Julian. Just a bit more.” Dr. Von Gratz's voice was oddly quiet, far away in the back of Dandelion’s mind. Dandelion’s cock was front and center though, listening intently to the praise.

Dandelion was prettified when the doctor’s finger returned. It guided out whatever had funneled the liquid into him and Dandelion strained to squeeze around it. To keep his pucker tight and not let anything untoward escape with it.

“Up on your knees.” Joachim patted Dandelion’s hip and Dandelion struggled to follow the order. He was bloated, sure his stomach had grown and hung low, but he managed.

On his hands and knees on the bed, Joachim made no comment on Dandelion’s cock as it hung stiffly between his legs. Only rubbed Dandelions stomach for a moment and then instructed him to stay in that position.

Later, after an aching few minutes and visit to the outhouse Dandelion had hurried back to The Rosemary and Thyme. Face burning red he’d buried it into his pillow and groaned at the memory of how _full_ he’d been while pulling on his cock in long strokes.

Oil-slick finger teasing at his rim, Dandelion imagined it was the cold metal tube. He wondered what it would feel like to pull on his cock while he laid in the comfort of his own bed, beached like a whale, filled to the brim. Fingers grabbing the base of his cock overhand dandelion tugged up to the to the tip in a steady rhythm. His pucker sucked needily at his finger while Dandelion came with a whimper, cum striping up the inside of his forearm.

Really, Dandelion has been rather discreet with this particular proclivity. Priscilla is none the wiser. Nor are any of the other men or women with whom Dandelion on occasion shares his bed. The overwhelming pleasure he finds in being full is something he keeps only for himself, locked way. In the small chest at the back left corner of the armoire to be exact.

The day Dandelion slips up is the day he indulges himself in a hot bath and spreads himself out on the bed to fill up knowing full well Priscilla has gone on a trip to Oxenfurt for the weekend. 

He forgets to lock the door.

Cock lying half swollen over his hip, Dandelion holds everything in place sighing at the tingle of satisfaction as another warm cup finds it’s way inside of him. His hand rests on his belly, thumb brushing it where it starts to bulge slightly, right above the base of his cock.

Dandelion has only just slipped the tube out, squeezing tightly with small grunt, and turned on his side to start teasing himself when the door pops open. Geralt gives him a quick glance and shuts it behind himself, sneaking quietly into the room.

“Hey. Sorry. Zoltan’s got a crowd downstairs and-” Geralt seems to realize five moments too late that he has interrupted, “-Dandelion? Are you alright?” What’s worse he sounds genuinely worried.

“I’m-” Dandelion clutches for the sheets. Gods how could he have been so _stupid_? Surely Geralt will see this behavior for the absolute aberration that it is and want nothing to do with him now. “I’m- was having a private moment.” 

Geralt is approaching the bed though. Keen eyes taking in every piece of medicinal equipment Dandelion has always kept so carefully out of view before. “Are you ill?” Geralt’s head tilts in question and Dandelion gets the distinct impression he is scenting the air.

All of the color drains from Dandelion. He is sure it does because his whole body goes cold, immediately followed by the flush of heat the accompanies what is surely an amazing blush. When he answers he squeaks. “No!”

Geralt’s mouth pulls up coyly at the corner. “You… enjoy this then?”

Dandelion’s cock jumps enthusiastically under the sheet as if to remind him that, yes in fact he does, while all Dandelion himself can do groan. He can’t decide if it was a good groan or a bad one, but what Dandelion does know is that his cock is almost as excited about Geralt knowing as it is about the now urgent pressing ache in his gut.

“Geralt, must we really discuss this? I need to use the privvy.” It’s probably best just to exit this entire situation. Geralt is well known for avoidance, perhaps he will pretend this never happened. Dandelion can hope.

“No.” Geralt’s voice is flat and demanding. His lip is still curled into that very small smile Dandelion secretly loves though.

The word makes Dandelion’s cock thrum with excitement and his gut clenches. “Excuse me?” Dandelion does his best to sound offended, but it comes out far more interested than he intends. A fine sweat breaks out on his brow.

Geralt prowls closer, losing swords and armor as he nears. “You heard me. I said ‘no’. No yet. You can wait can’t you?”

Oh Gods. Dandelion clenches his arse. He could.

He will. 

Dandelion nods, biting his lip silently.

“You have oil?” Geralt’s pants hit the floor and Dandelions pulse hits the roof. Sweet mother of Gods, Geralt is already hard.

Dandelion fumbles in the bed next to himself and then holds out a vial to Geralt. And oh Gods Above, Dandelion would worry about the sheets, but Geralt’s long cock is too good sliding between the tight space his thighs make as he clenches to keep it together, to keep everything in. 

Geralt is tender in the way Dandelion always knew he would be. Hands half again the size of Dandelion's, that are calloused from swords, gently ghosting over the stretch and swell of Dandelion’s lower belly. Hips rocking and cock pumping between Dandelions legs, Geralt kisses the back of Dandelion’s neck. The head of Geralt’s cock nudges at Dandelion’s sac with every thrust and when Geralt tells him to touch himself he isn’t even ashamed to obey.

The soft press of Geralt’s fingers into his belly make Dandelion squirm with arousal. He’s so full it aches and he’s so close he can hardly breathe through sensation. He pulls urgently on his cock whining in Geralt’s arms, bucking in his arms as he spills into his own hand.

“Beautiful.” Geralt’s warm breath on Dandelion’s neck is nothing compared to the hot cum Geralt spurts against the back of Dandelion’s sac with a grunt. In his passion Geralt squeezes Dandelion a bit too tight, nipping at his neck.

“Geralt!” Dandelion’s belly contracts and he grunts in protest. “Please, I’ve got to go now.”

Geralt’s hand runs down Dandelion’s side softly again. “Alright. Don’t be long.”


End file.
